


The Snoring Detective

by IntolerantBonita



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Episode s02e02, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, No Smut, The Hounds of Baskerville, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntolerantBonita/pseuds/IntolerantBonita
Summary: Sherlock and John are pent up in a queen size bed. And only one of them is able to sleep...





	

**Author's Note:**

> For my private Mother of Dragons who keeps me awake with her Snoring Symphonies.

John had already made a decision - he was going to kill him as soon as the other one would wake up.

Not only Sherlock had been snoring for the last hour, but he hadn't come to the hotel at the right time. They were still in the middle of Baskervill, solving the case of a mysterious demon. Due to the misunderstanding of receptionist, they had got one room with a queen size bed, which had made John frustrated and anxious. Sherlock still had no idea know about his feelings and vision of them, sleeping only a few centimetres away from each other made John's stomach flip.

He had spent over an hour and a half waiting for Sherlock that day or that night, to be more specific. Holmes had told him he was only going to check something in the valley and he would come back as soon as possible. When he hadn't appeared on time, John had started worrying and, although he was exhausted after a day full of emotions, he had kept writing his blog stories till almost midnight, just to focus his thoughts on something else.

He had been sitting in his pyjamas with a laptop on his knees when Sherlock had finally opened the doors and, without a single word, took off his coat and shoes.

"Sherlock. Where have you been?" John had turned to Sherlock, who had been covering himself with a duvet on his side of the mattress. But it had seemed like the other man fell asleep instantly, so John had just turned off the lights and lay next to the man because there hadn't been anything else to do.

John had lost his sense of time long ago - it was equally possible that he had been lying without sleep for thirty minutes or two hours. He was seriously thinking about murdering Sherlock. The taller man took a bigger part of the bed for himself and John was balancing over the edge, praying he wouldn't fall. But this wasn't that bad - after military service, everything became more comfortable for him. Sherlock was snoring really loud, creating some crazy musicals and didn't seem like shutting up. The doctor had already tried waking him up in many different ways, but nothing could shake him awake.

He was laying on his back, glancing at the ceiling and listening to the Symphony of Snoring Noises no. 27 composed by Sherlock Holmes, when he became simply sick of it. He raised his hand and hit the other man's back with an open hand. A thud followed and, to his surprise, Sherlock stopped and murmured something, changing his position.

There wasn't enough space for the two of them, so when Sherlock turned over his right side, he met a bar in the form of John's body. John froze and, not even noticing that, hold his breath. He couldn't tell if Sherlock was still asleep. They had never been so close before, so he decided not to do anything in case he would panic and run away or, what would be much worse, wake Sherlock up.

The detective murmured some unclear words again and put his long arm across his comrade. Next, he quickly snuggled down and placed his head on John's arm, definitely falling asleep.

John could feel Sherlock's breath on his neck and curls tickling his cheek. He could smell his aftershave and cologne, remembering what colour of shirt was the other man wearing. John could barely help himself and not turn his head to look at the sleeping man; well, he barely reminded himself he needed to breathe.

He lost his sense of time again - he didn't know when he dropped off or for how long they were lying like this, without a move, almost in a tender hug. But when he opened his eyes, Sherlock had already disappeared and John lost his hope he would ever know answers for the questions, grown in his mind during that night.


End file.
